


So We Could Change

by angelsaves



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Threesome - M/M/M, pining slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: TFLN: (513) The night they met, I slept with both of them. Of course I'm best man.Chris tries to forget the night he spent with Viktor and Yuuri. It doesn't work.





	So We Could Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pageleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pageleaf/gifts).



> betaed by the incomparable neomeruru!
> 
> title from "apple candy" by ben lee, the platonic ideal of a pining slut song.

_The night they met, I slept with both of them. Of course I'm best man._

As soon as Chris sends the text, he regrets it. It sounds a little bitter, a little harsh, and just because that's how he feels, is that any reason to inflict it on Gianni?

 _well, that sounds like a situation we could drink about,_ Gianni texts back promptly.

 _This is why I love you,_ Chris replies. It's true, even if it's not romantic or sexual anymore — even if it's not like what he wants with Viktor and Yuuri — God, he needs to get them out of his system.

_i know :)_

***

That night, Chris lets Gianni take him to a bar, where they shout at each other over the vibrantly-colored mixed drinks the bartender keeps giving them. "I need to get over them!"

"The bartender seems like she'd be willing to help!" Gianni points out.

Chris glances over at her and smiles. She's cute: spiky-haired, broad-shouldered, pierced, with sweet, limpid brown eyes. He turns back to Gianni. "Maybe."

"Definitely," Gianni corrects him. "I'll prove it." He leans over to get in the bartender's line of sight. "Excuse me!"

"Another round already?" she asks with a grin.

"Not quite, but I had a question." Gianni waves towards Chris. "Are you interested in helping my good friend forget past lovers?"

Chris tries to look charmingly wistful as her gaze glides over him, letting his eyes go wide and just a little damp. Too bad she can't see his ass from this angle.

"I could be," she says at last. "Is he any good in bed?"

"The best," Gianni assures her. "I've had him myself."

"With a recommendation like that, I'd be a fool to refuse!" She leans over to Chris and holds out her hand. "I'm Annick."

"Christophe," he says, clasping it. "When do you get off work, Annick?"

She checks her phone. "In ten minutes," she tells him. "Finish your drink."

Chris raises his glass to her in a salute, then downs the drink. It's sweet and strong — a precursor, he hopes, to the night ahead.

***

He's not wrong. Annick works out, Chris learns; she's an exercise physiology major at McGill University over in Canada, studying abroad for the semester, and she has no trouble at all throwing him up against the door of his apartment and sucking bruises into his throat while he moans into the soft spikes of her hair.

She doesn't mind when he turns the tables, either, pushing her down over the arm of the couch to fuck her with his hands and mouth. "He said you were — _crisse de câlice_ — good in bed," Annick pants as he thrusts three fingers deep into her cunt, lapping at her clit with the flat of his tongue, "but — _tabarnak!_ — this is better than I expected!" She comes and comes, thighs just this side of too tight around his head.

Chris loves it. "Thank you," he says gravely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, when she releases him.

"Don't tell me you're done," Annick says, craning her neck to catch his eye with a wry smile. "You're still dressed!"

"I can fix that!" Chris gets to his feet and strips down in record time, while Annick squirms into a more comfortable position on the couch. She surveys the view, head pillowed on folded arms, and smirks at him.

"Not bad," she says. "Do you know what to do with that dick?"

"I have a few ideas," Chris says. "Want to give me a hint which you'd like best?"

"You can start by putting a condom on it," she directs him.

"Gladly!" There are condoms in the drawer of the end table, of course; Chris rolls one on, and Annick pulls him closer, then flips them so she's straddling his hips.

"I'm a kinesthetic teacher," she explains, and sinks down on him.

"Ah! No — complaints," he assures her, settling his hands on her waist as she rides him, taking her pleasure from him. It reminds him with a pang of Yuuri, who doesn't even remember, and he has to focus hard on the present, on Annick. "You're beautiful," he tells her, which is no more than the truth.

"Thank you," she says. "Would you like to come?"

"Yes, please —" he says, and Annick nods regally, then pinches his nipples hard and _squeezes_ with her cunt, and oh, God, Chris comes undone.

"Thought you might like that," Annick is saying when his toes uncurl and his brain re-curls, climbing carefully off of him. She leans down to kiss him. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Through there, on the left," Chris says, waving one hand. Then he scrubs it over his face and sits up. He's sore in the best way, and he hopes Annick is too.

"Did it work?" she asks when she comes back.

"Yes," Chris lies, standing up to kiss her, but she pulls back.

"You're lying," she says. "Rude." She kisses him anyway. "I had fun, at least. Did you?"

"Yes, I really did," he tells her, making eye contact. "You're an excellent lover."

Annick grins. "You're not bad yourself. I've got to go, but let me give you my number. Maybe I can help you work through your issues a little more another time."

"I'd like that," he says, meaning it. He helps her find her underwear, does up the back of her dress, even kneels to zip her boots; Annick pats the top of his head and laughs sweetly.

"I hope they deserve you," is the last thing she says as she closes the apartment door.

"They do," Chris says softly. "Oh, they do."

***

The wedding sneaks up on him: Viktor and Yuuri only gave him two weeks' notice, as it's going to be a small affair — by Viktor's standards, at any rate. Chris gets a new suit, tailored to make the most of his assets, and buys plane tickets, and has sex with Annick three more times. Each time is excellent — she seems just as committed to the art as he is — but he still can't stop thinking about the banquet, the wedding, Yuuri's abandon, Viktor's focus, and at last, he breaks it off.

"You deserve more," he tells her.

"I know," she says. "So do you." A last kiss, a sweet, lingering one, and Annick is gone, leaving Chris alone with his thoughts.

 _Looking forward to seeing you! ^__^_ Yuuri texts him, as if he can tell, from thousands of miles away, just how little Chris enjoys that prospect.

 _Can't wait,_ Chris texts back. An image of Yuuri's creamy inner thigh, marred by an almost-identical pair of bite marks, flashes across his mind's eye, and he squeezes his eyes to banish it. It's not _for_ him, not anymore.

***

When Chris arrives at the airport in Japan, he's shocked to see Viktor waiting for him at the baggage claim. "What are you doing here, old man?" he demands, giving Viktor a full-on hug.

"I wanted to see you!" Viktor gestures expansively. "Welcome to Hasetsu!" He drags Chris out to the waiting car once his luggage arrives — doesn't help carry anything, of course, but does open the car door — and reintroduces him to Mari, Yuuri's sister, who's leaning half out the window, smoking a cigarette.

Chris greets her in his limited Japanese, to her tolerant amusement, then asks Viktor, "How is Yuuri?"

"Oh, nervous as can be, you know him." Viktor's face softens, just a little bit. "He'll feel better once he sees you."

"You think so?"

"I know so! I've planned the best bachelor party for us, you'll see."

Chris blinks. "Aren't you supposed to have separate ones?"

"Why bother? We share everything else," Viktor says, and the memory of them sharing _him_ floods Chris's awareness, blood rushing to his face. Viktor pokes him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm great," Chris tells him, willing the blush to disappear with all his might. "What's the plan for the party?"

"Oh, you'll see," Viktor says.

"Wait, why am I the one being surprised? I'm not marrying anyone!" Chris complains.

"Don't worry, you'll like it," Viktor assures him.

Chris doesn't know how to feel about this. On the one hand, Viktor knows him very well. On the other hand... well, on the other hand, Viktor knows him very well. "If you say so," he says doubtfully.

***

Four hours later, two party hats on his head like horns, nearly a full bottle of vodka in his system and the rest spilled down his front, Chris has to admit that Viktor was right. "You were right!" he shouts in Viktor's ear. "I like it!"

"It's not over yet!" Viktor shouts back. He stretches out one arm and grabs Yuuri in passing by the back of his mostly-unbuttoned shirt, pulling him close to both of them, and whispers in his ear.

" _Yes,_ " Yuuri says, loudly even in context. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Chris asks. Neither Viktor nor Yuuri answers, not verbally; they each take one of his hands and pull, and Chris lets them.

The three of them reach Viktor and Yuuri's room. Viktor opens the door and looks at Chris. "We'd like you to come in," he says.

Chris's breath catches in his throat. "You would?" he asks, glancing back and forth between them, the happy couple.

"Yes," Yuuri says, simply and firmly. They tug at his hands, and again, Chris lets them. He'd let them do almost anything, he reflects, as the door shuts behind them and Viktor plasters himself up against Chris's back.

"I've missed this," Viktor practically purrs in his ear. "Haven't you?"

His cock rubs hard against Chris's ass; Chris arches shamelessly into the sweet pressure of it. "Yes," he says. "Viktor. Yes."

"I saw the pictures," Yuuri says from over by the bedside table, where he's taken off his glasses. "Not the ones everyone saw." His charming squint is in evidence as he, dear God, _prowls_ closer to them. "I don't remember, but I want to this time."

So do I, Chris thinks. "I think I can oblige," he says out loud.

"Where would you like to start?" Viktor asks over Chris's shoulder.

Yuuri appears to consider this. "Naked," he decides, "all three of us, and then — then I want my cock sucked."

Chris takes a breath. "I can do that," he says.

"Good!" Viktor says cheerfully. "And I'll fuck you while you do it." He kisses under Chris's ear. "Sound good?"

"Yes," Chris says. "It sounds wonderful." Everything is shimmering-bright, Viktor's silvery hair, the sheen of precome on Yuuri's cock, and Chris does his best to commit it all to memory: the way it looks, the low sound in Yuuri's throat when Chris wraps his mouth around his cock and takes it to the root, Viktor's laugh when he humps his ass greedily back against his fingers, the way it feels to be full of them, both of them—

"You're crying," Yuuri says, sounding surprised, swiping one finger through the moisture under Chris's eyes. "Are you unhappy? We can—"

" _Mmph_ ," Chris says, mouth full of cock — lets it slide out and rub against his cheek as he repeats himself: "No!"

"It means he likes it, Viktor says, laying a proprietary slap on Chris's haunch. It's not untrue; Chris gazes pleadingly up at Yuuri.

"Oh," he says. "Well, good. I like it too." He thrusts a little more deeply into Chris's mouth, and it's so good that fresh tears spring to Chris's eyes. He sucks harder.

"Chris," Viktor says. "You're having a good time?"

He rocks his hips backwards, trying to show Viktor just how much he's enjoying this — how much he's enjoying pretending, just for a while, that he belongs to them.

"Good," Viktor says, and fucks him harder.

When they're done, Yuuri sleepy and warm, Viktor in the shower, Chris goes back to his room and lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He can't regret it, doesn't want to regret it, but at the same time, he feels empty.

***

The wedding itself is a blur, interspersed with crystal-clear moments: the happy couple saying their vows, kissing, dancing, eating, while Chris stands at their side and smiles. All he wants is what he can't have.

"You look... tired," Phichit says, when Chris tries to pick him up at the reception, and touches his arm gently.

"I'm not."

"How about I rub your back, instead?" Phichit offers. "You look like you could use it."

"I'm fine," Chris insists.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to go."

Chris sighs. "Have a good night."

He kills a bottle of champagne with Mari's help, then another. She pats his arm and moves the third bottle out of his reach. "Go to bed," she recommends.

"I should," Chris agrees, making no move in that direction.

Mari prods at his shoulder. "Bed," she repeats. "Before you do something you'll be sorry for."

"Too late," Chris says sadly, but he goes.

Just as he reaches his door, he hears Yuuri say, "Wait! Chris!"

He stops. "Yuuri," he says. "I'm going to bed."

"Did you have a good time?" Yuuri asks, earnest.

"Of course," Chris says, then, tongue loose with champagne: "Was I a good present?"

"Were you... what?" Yuuri looks perplexed, collar undone, tie loose around his neck. "Wait, you thought...? Let me get Viktor."

"I'll be in my room," Chris says, and escapes. Inside, he strips off his suit and puts on his pajamas, his least alluring pair, baggy and well-worn.

There's a knock at the door a few minutes later. "Come in," Chris says, not moving.

Yuuri looks worried; Viktor looks alight with rage. Chris stares blankly at him. "What did I do?"

"You thought —" Viktor shakes his head. "You thought we'd use you?!"

"Not in a bad way," Chris tries to explain. "I wanted you to."

"No," Yuuri says. "No! You're so much more than that."

"Chris," Viktor says. "We love you. Don't you— we thought you—" He shakes his head again, silvery hair damp with sweat falling in his face. "I've messed this all up."

Chris wets his lips. Part of him thinks they're just saying what they think he wants to hear, but the part of him that knows them, the part of him that _loves_ them... 

Memories trickle into his mind: a rumpled Viktor FaceTiming him that time Chris was stuck in the Chicago airport when his connecting flight was canceled, keeping him company when it was 4 in the morning, Viktor's time; Yuuri pressing another bowl of rice on him, texting him the best places to stop for a meal plan-approved lunch wherever he is, whether Yuuri's been there himself or not— 

He matters to them. He doesn't know how to deal with it. "Tell me what you want," he says.

"No," Yuuri repeats. "Tell us what _you_ want." He takes a small step closer to where Chris is sitting.

It breaks something stiff inside him. "To be a part of... this," he says, waving one hand between them. "Not all the time, but — for real."

"That's what we want, too," Yuuri says. "I thought you'd talked about it!"

"We fucked about it," Chris corrects him.

"That's not the same," Yuuri says fondly. "You two..."

"Let's sleep together," Viktor suggests brightly, then, when Yuuri gives him a scathing look, "Just sleep!"

"That's actually a good idea," Chris admits, suddenly exhausted. "I'm too tired for much else."

"A kiss goodnight?" Yuuri asks.

"Not that," Chris concedes. Yuuri cups his face in his hands and kisses him, soft and ardent. By the time they're finished, Viktor is down to his boxers and in Chris's bed.

"Join me?" he offers, and Chris can't help but laugh.

"All right," he says, and lies down. Yuuri takes off his clothes, down to his underwear, and snuggles comfortably between them.

"Now, this," Yuuri says, "is a good wedding present." He kisses each of them in turn.

"I suppose I'll take back that waffle maker," Chris teases.

"I didn't say that!" Yuuri says quickly.

Viktor laughs. "Chris is better than waffles," he says.

"Why choose?" Chris points out through a yawn. "You can have both."


End file.
